Payback
by I'mtheAlphahearmeRoar
Summary: 3 times Stiles is woken up by Derek and 1 time it's the other way around.


**_1_**

The loud thump of what can only be boots on Stiles' bedroom floor has the teen narrowing his eyes in his was-asleep-but-not-now-_thanks_-_very_-_much_ state.

The noise is followed by a growled, hushed snap of his name. It's a familiar voice, one that Stiles doesn't even particularly need to hear to know who the person is. Because, really, _honestly_, only Derek Hale is one to prowl into a teenage boy's bedroom at an ungodly hour of the morning.

"Y'know, this is _exactly _why I need to start locking my window every night," Stiles huffs, not bothering to roll over onto his side and squint his eyes in the direction where he already knows the shadowy silhouette of a body will be standing.

"I need to you to go through this and make a list of what you can put into the Bestiary," is the flat, not-a-care-in-the-world-that-I've-just-woken-someone-up answer he is responded with—then the feeling of something heavy hitting the blanket at the bottom of his bed, sinking the mattress.

In any _other _situation, right about now Stiles would probably start making fun of Derek for saying the word Bestiary, but y'know, since he's been kinda _woken up_ and all, he just doesn't really feel all that cheery.

He doesn't even get the chance to say _anything_, in fact, because before he can give the werewolf a piece of his sleep-deprived mind the sound of his window slamming shut jolts an annoyed flinch out of him.

"Oh _you're welcome_, Derek. Remember, if you ever need me, my window's always open," he mutters, a muffled mix of sarcasm and crankiness, before pulling the covers over his head.

Yup, he really wishes he'd never went out to find that body.

* * *

**_2_**

"_No_. No, no, no, no."

Stiles head-thunks the back of his bedroom door in anguish and exhaustion. He wants to cry.

Leave his bedroom to get a late night drink of warm milk and what? Walk back into his room to find Derek being a creeperwolf.

Meanwhile, Derek stands in the corner of his room, body cloaked and shielded by the darkness, one eyebrow raised—and how the hell if it's so dark did Stiles see that facial movement?

Sleep. Yup. That's why. He's not getting enough of it.

"What do you _want_, now? I'm like, about to collapse from lack of energy and you're just—" He flaps his hand tiredly at Derek's brooding mass. "Standing there, scowling at me."

"I need that book back," Derek says, tonelessly as always, and hey why not? It's not _his _sleep that keeps getting disrupted by exonerated werewolves, is it.

Stiles closes his eyes and tries to breathe, calm himself down.

_Calm. Stay clam. Calm calm calm calm cal—and yup stop you're about to fall asleep standing up_.

Stiles opens his eyes again, meeting the impatient glare of Derek's hazel eyes—_which actually kind of look pretty like that in the dark I mean wow is that a triskele of colours there or wha—_

And he needs sleep. Like, right now. Or this is going to get super awkward and embarrassing.

"Not finished yet. Come tomorrow. Or whatever. Bed now. Bye," are the only things he can bother to let his mouth mumble before he's hobbling over to his bed and falling face-down into the blankets.

He's not sure if the _goodnight Stiles _is just a part of his imagination or if he actually heard it.

Nah. Probably just his imagination.

* * *

**_3_**

True to what Stiles had mumbled he do, Derek shows up the next day.

Stiles is actually sleeping in, because why the hell not? He's being kept awake by a surly werewolf who doesn't know of appropriate visiting hours.

So yup, of course he gets awakened by that _very same person_.

"Book."

The voice startles Stiles out of his sleep.

"Mmmph?" He opens an eye, but closes it immediately when the sunshine burns.

"The book."

The voice has a certain sharpness to it now.

"Mmph—mmm?" he breathes, curling his toes and yawning.

"The _book_, Stiles. You said to come back tomorrow. It's tomorrow."

The voice is more of a growl than a voice this time.

_Oh_.

"Whhhhhhyyyyy," he whines, scrunching his face up in disdain. This is the worst week of his life.

"Look, you don't need to hurt yourself by moving to get it for me. Just tell me where it is," Derek snides.

Stiles lifts his hand and in a weak attempt of a point, directs it to his computer table. "Book. Collect and leave. Tired and need sleep," he complains.

This time Derek's departure is followed by nothing but silence.

* * *

**_3+_**

Stiles needs that book back. He'd accidentally forgot to list something and now Derek has it. He needs it back. Pronto.

He knocks on the loft's door. It's kinda a loud knock and its kinda nearly 4am, but eh. Payback for all those times, man.

There's a string of curses coming from the other side of the door, along with the sound of bare feet padding over hard-wood floor.

Stiles smirks.

"Sourwolf, open up the doggy door please."

_Payback_.

When the door slides open and Derek's bed-headed, droopy-eyed face half glares and half falls in despair, Stiles grins from ear to ear, holding out his hand and innocently batting his eyelashes.

"Book?"

* * *

**_I wrote this in less than an hour at 1:35am, which I hope kinda explains the brevity._**

**_I hope you still enjoyed it :)_**


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